For Without Hope We Are Lost
by red rose knight
Summary: A final mission that may save or destroy Obi-Wan Kenobi before he finally retreats to Tatooine to live a hermit’s life and tend to the future.
1.

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Summary: A final mission that may save or destroy Obi-Wan Kenobi before he finally retreats to Tatooine to live a hermit's life and tend to the future. 

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The usual disclaimers apply. George Lucas owns it all; I am not making any money on this. 

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For Without Hope We Are Lost

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Coruscant Time: –254 days

There was no reason to continue counting days they were all the same. No, that was not quite true. Everyday the Force grew a little quieter, a little emptier and the helplessness of it all became over bearing. Everyday hope for numbness grew and yet he still felt the pain of Jedi passing into the Force. And there would be no mercy for him until that day when fate or destiny intervened and left him to the calm caress of sleep he so longed for.

Until then, he served in the only way he knew how. He would abide by Yoda's orders and do what was required of him, even if deep inside he did not fully understand why. For a moment, brief as it was, he did not care.

Fingers drew across the dingy, sticky tabletop pausing at a crumb that had lain there for who knows how long. Flicking it off the edge, his fingers continued their search of the grimy table until an unnaturally fogged surface chilled his warm flesh. A dark liquid sloshed about the narrow glass as he brought it to his lips. Corellian gamba liquor was bitter and burned all the way down. 

Mercifully the hood of the deep purple cloak protected him from displaying his displeasure with the toxic liquid. Setting the glass down he motioned to the Toydarian waitress.

She hovered over, her little wings flapping wildly as she showed every bit of her irritation as she plunked down another glass of gamba. "Stuff will kill you." 

"Not fast enough." The weary drinker downed the fresh drink and slid both glasses across the table to the collection of four more. "Another."

"Just don't die in here. Costs to much to dispose of the body." Ignored, she huffed indignantly but took the time to gather all the glasses up. "I'll get these ready for you, hon." 

"They could use a good washing."

She laughed. "Where you think you're at, pilgrim? This isn't a civilized port like Tatooine."

"So it seems." Even if his words had remained cool and uninterested, he mentally shuddered at the mention of the desert planet. Knowing they had little choice and Tatooine offered the best chance of repair, he still wished, just a little that he had not mentioned that planet to his master and crew of Queen Amidala's ship so many years ago. Maybe everything would be different.

The Toydarian stared at him for a moment longer then just shook her gray head and buzzed off leaving the figure in Mahari pilgrim robes alone. The traveler slipped a hand off the edge of the table and pressed his fingers against the cloak material. He was relieved to feel the familiar shape of his lightsaber as well as a second one wrapped and stored in a leather pouch hidden in the folds of his tunic. Then he adjusted the deep purple with black embroidered hood to better hide his face, yet it was not so low that it obscured his vision.

His soul numbed gaze reached across the room and studied a bleary, unstable holoimage. The Force drowned out the mumbles and arguments that filled the cantina so the Mahari pilgrim could focus entirely on the Holonet News anchor. 

"Imperial HoloVision is now broadcasting," a female voice announced. "His Excellency, the Emperor Palpatine's special forces have brought down yet another member of the traitorous Jedi Order. Jedi Master Geya Moorbok was killed resisting arrest. She is suspected of trying to corrupt government officials in the Rimorean parliament and inciting rebellious activities. Her associate and supposed apprentice, Emeute Farrago, is still at large."

As the traveler watched, two large thugs from the far end of the dark cantina crept quietly toward him. 

"In other news, Lord Vader has upped the bounty on the remaining fugitive Jedi." The holoimager flashed a picture of a ginger haired Jedi with the scrawl underneath reading: Kenobi. "The bounty for the live apprehension of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has brought about—"

"What do we have here?" a large Kijon asked in a heavily accented growl. A deep scar had blinded one of his round yellow eyes that peered out from thick drab green flesh. "You're a little off the path, pilgrim."

The traveler did not remove his attention from the holoimager.

The human of the two thugs grabbed a large vibroknife from his belt with his one remaining hand. He slid the blade along the edge of the purple hood drawing it back slightly and sneered, "Why don't we make this easy, friend. Give us your valuables."

With a slight wave of his hand, the traveller said evenly, "I possess nothing of value."

The human withdrew in confusion.

The Kijon smacked his partner on the shoulder. "What's that matter with you?"

"He possesses nothing of value."

"Just look at him!" the Kijon barked. He swatted the human to the ground and grabbed the Mahari traveller by the cloak and threw him against the nearby wall. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, pilgrim." 

The impact with the wall elicited a groan from the traveler and a look of surprise from the Kijon when the purple hood fell back. Pale blue eyes quickly focused on the mammoth creature that marched toward him.

"Your worth more than your belongings," the green skinned figure said. Grabbing the ginger haired man and slamming him into the wall again caused another pained groan. "Doesn't say much for that Vader or the New Order that they can't catch a couple of pathetic Jedi scum like you."

Shaking off the Kijon's attack Obi-Wan Kenobi reached for the Force but spoke softly, "You have mistaken me for someone else." 

"I don't think so," the large figure growled. "I'm no weak minded fool!" With unparalleled strength, he tossed the purple robed Jedi across the cantina, sending him crashing into the middle of a sabacc game. Like a wild Heidarian boar, the Kijon stormed through the cantina shoving everything and everyone out of the way that came between he and his prize. 

The Imperial HoloVision fluctuated but continued unimpeded. "This morning in the Imperial Center, the treacherous former senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala Skywalker was put to death for her part in a conspiracy to assassinate Emperor Palpatine." There was a tremor in the speaker's voice, "We are pleased that his Excellency, the Emperor is dealing with such corruption that once plagued the senate and the people."

Obi-Wan twisted, barely catching the end of the report. Stunned by the news, he was unprepared for the Kijon's next attack that sent him flying across the room again. A tabled filled with putrid swill spilled all over the Jedi as he slammed into it. 

By now most of the cantina was alert to the happenings. Most knew the Kijon was after a very worthy prize. Dozens of alien life forms converged on the downed Jedi. Ferociously bounding to his feet, Obi-Wan caused a mild startle in the creatures that encircled him. With a wild flourish, he ripped the soaked Mahari cloak off and swung it about driving the creatures back. Twisting the dark material, he tossed it toward the largest group of spacers and scum. For a moment, a brilliant flash of orange lit up the room and vanished just as the liquor soaked cloak burst into flames. 

Cries of pain and terror drowned out everything else as the encroaching crowd turned into a maelstrom of panic. The flaming cloak set the alcohol-laden cantina afire sending everyone fleeing for their lives. 

Except for the Kijon.

A fist as big as a human head flew out smashing into Obi-Wan sending him to the floor. The Jedi rolled and was on his feet, lightsaber in hand. "Do not do this," he warned.

"What are you going to do, Jedi? Kill me? It's against your religion."

Activating his weapon Obi-Wan lashed out, driving the massive figure through the flames toward the door. "Run while you still can."

The Kijon gave an evil grin. "You're worth more than the entire Jedi Council put together."

"The Council is dead," Obi-Wan growled as he retreated into the smoke filled depths of the cantina. 

"See? You are worth more."

"You do not want this," Obi-Wan replied evenly. 

Laughing wickedly, the massive creature tore into the smokey black depths. "You wonder why the Jedi are dead? Don't know much about my kind do you, Jedi?" From under his vest he revealed a blaster and opened fire. "You're magics don't work on me."

Obi-Wan easily deflected the orange bolts that cut through the smoke. Turning one back on the Kijon, the creature cried out when his shoulder was clipped. 

A deep, feral growl emanated from furious Kijon. "You're going to pay, little Jedi. Doesn't really matter, the price is still good dead or alive. I am going to snap your neck with my bare hands." Opening fire again, the Kijon rushed at Obi-Wan. 

At first, the Jedi tried to defend against the attack but was quickly overwhelmed. He tried to retreat into the smoke but the heat and flames were becoming overbearing. He coughed and struggled for air but the Kijon did not back down, driving the Jedi deeper into the burning cantina as if not bothered by the swirling smoke. 

"Give up, little Jedi, and I might let you live."

"Who are you to say that is what I want?" Deactivating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan vanished into the black smoke. 

"No more games, little Jedi." The Kijon began firing indiscriminately, lighting the smoke suffocating room with brief flashes of orange light. There was a gasp and a dull thud. Pleased, the Kijon burst into laughter. "Couldn't hide forever, little Jedi. No wonder your kind is all but extinct. Only willing to defend your self, never willing to fight. Surprised you have lasted this long." The Kijon moved slowly through the smoke, searching with his foot. He kicked something soft. "Didn't get too far away, did you?" He leveled the blaster and slowly squeezed the trigger.

A flash of blue from the smoke severed the Kijon's arm. The large creature howled and sank to his knees. Undaunted, fingers blindly searched the grimy surface for the fallen blaster. Grasping the weapon, the smoky room lit up with blaster bolts again as he fired at every shadow. "Coward! You will not get out of here alive!"

A shadow moved around the Kijon heading back toward the doors and a less smoky area of the cantina. The large creature bounded to his feet and moved to block the Jedi's escape route. 

Obi-Wan coughed as the acrid air was choking him. All he could see the hulking form of the Kijon and it refused to move. His lungs were burning and he didn't know how much longer he had before the oxygen deprivation overcame him. 

"I will make you suffer and beg for death." The Kijon reached out grasped the Jedi by his worn tunic and pushed him toward the flaming bar.

"You don't know how I am suffering," Obi-Wan managed between ragged breaths as the heat around him grew intense again. Twisting to see the fire that he was being pushed toward. The smoke was so thick but still the Kijon did not seem effected.

Blue flashed briefly piercing the Kijon's thick body. The heavy creature sank to his knees and toppled backward dragging the Jedi with him to the grimy floor. 

Obi-Wan gasped, taking in the warm but relatively smoke free air just above the floor. "I will only kill in defense," he whispered.

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Coruscant Time: –255 days

"What a mess," the sooty Toydarian waitress sighed as she hovered around the burned out remains of the cantina. She flew over to one of the few remaining tables and scooped up two blackened glasses. After a moment of study, the Toydarian dumped them into a grimy apron pouch and flew off in search of more recoverable objects.

Stepping out from the shadows, a figure in brushed silver Mandalorian armor over black studied the charred room. No less than half dozen weapons were visible, including a caston flint enhanced blaster rifle strapped to his back. The walking arsenal kicked a broken table to the side revealing the partially burned remains of the deep purple Mahari monk's robe. The Jedi had been there. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was getting harder to track, but not yet impossible. Continuing his silent inspection in the grim light that filtered through the remaining rafters of collapsed ceiling he paused. 

At first glance, the armored figure was no different than the dozen bounty hunters that passed through in the previous days with one exception. Clipped to utility belt, back where it could not hinder him was a delicate lightsaber sized for a small hand. A trophy of one of his many kills. 

The helmeted figure spun to face the Toydarian hovering nearby. His mechanized voice demanded, "Where is Ce'til Palom?"

"I'm having trouble remembering," the waitress gruffly replied as she held out stubby gray fingers rubbing them together in the interplanetary symbol for credits. 

Calmly the figure retrieved a silver blaster from his side and pointed it directly at the Toydarian's gray head. "Palom."

Snorting indignantly, she jutted her wrinkled chin outside. "Probably getting drunk down the street. Can't you see I'm out of business? No drinks here."

"The place has never been cleaner," the hunter replied turning to leave. 

"E'chuta!"

Lightning quick reflexes sent an orange blaster bolt into the hovering Toydarian. She was dead before she hit the blackened floor.

The masked figure marched out of the murky, burned out structure and down the dark street still holding the blaster. Bright neon lights splashed pinks and oranges across his silver armour. 

It was the closest he had been to the Jedi since Seris Prime. He would have had Kenobi then if it were not for that upstart Lieutenant Needa alerting the Jedi to the Imperial presence.

Never slowing he stormed into the first extremely crowded pub and shoved a few customers out of the way. The rest moved from his path, growing silent as the bounty hunter zeroed in on his target. Spying Palom sitting against the wall behind a full sabacc table, the bounty hunter raised his weapon. Before anyone could respond, he had killed all of the occupants at the table except Palom. The large human pitifully hid behind a hand and the stump remains of the other. 

Palom began to laugh as his pale, bruised face looked up at the hunter. "Should of known, your kind wouldn't be far behind. There's no Jedi here, Ruan Uri."

Ruan fired, singing the hair off Palom's sparsely whiskered chin. "The Jedi."

"Got away after he killed my associate."

"That Kijon deserved to die." Another blaster bolt skimmed the top of Palom's head inciting the human to cower even more. "You know where he went."

Palom shot him an evil look from table level. His voice quivered as he spoke, "Probably heading to Nasaux. There's a small transport hub there."

Ruan nodded and retreated from the crowded room.


	2. 

Flowing in gentle currents, the Force wrapped itself around Obi-Wan Kenobi providing the comfort of remaining his only companion. After everything, it still sang to him, guiding him through an unfamiliar maze of alleys and side streets. It warned him when danger approached, sending the ginger haired Jedi ducking into the shadows of a small walkway.

Frozen in place, he watched as two white armored figures patrolled the narrow side street he had just hastily exited.

Great, Obi-Wan growled softly to himself as he ducked a little deeper into the shadows. He had thought he was far enough from the core worlds that the Emperor's reach was not so powerful. Unfortunately, it was eighth patrol of Imperial Peacekeeping troops that he had to hide from since sun up. It was not only them he had to look out for, every bounty hunter and anyone out to make a quick credit was searching for him. 

Naturally, he had done everything possible to draw attention to his whereabouts. Igniting a lightsaber in a brawl that burned down the cantina in Daktar was by now all over the information networks whether they were legitimate or not.

After the troopers had vanished around a corner, the Jedi in the remains of his dark Mahari clothing stepped cautiously into the bright street. He needed to change into something less conspicuous and fast if he was going to make it to the transport station and get off this rock before sun down. With Force silenced footsteps, he walked softly over the chalky rock that made up the narrow street. Casting out again, searching his immediate proximity, he found no one.

Quietly approaching a group of run down living quarters, he spied rope strung between one of the mud hovels and a tall white tree. He snatched from the line a pair of men's trews, a dull brown hooded shirt and a dark green farmer's poncho. Approaching a faded blue dress that was pinned to the line, he dropped a few of his remaining credits into the dress pocket. He hated that he had to steal from the poor local population but knew it was a necessity. Still it did not change what he was doing and he hoped the few credits he possessed would help.

Smiling gently to himself, he was certain Qui-Gon would have an appropriate response to such feelings offering a unique point of view to the situation. After all, the old Jedi master had been known to bend the rules when it suited his needs.

The smile slipped away. 

If only his master had not circumvented the Council's decree by using his dying breath to guarantee Anakin's training. If only he had been stronger and said no, but Qui-Gon had know him to well.

Or not well enough. He had put faith where it may not have been deserved and it had cost the lives of thousands of Jedi. The Temple would still be towering above the Coruscant skyline, vanishing into the clouds and serving as the early training ground for so many young Jedi.

Exhaling deeply, he pushed the thoughts away. Now was not the time to drift in what ifs. It would change nothing.

Returning to the shadowed area he had hid in moments earlier, he quickly changed out of the dark Mahari clothes. Pausing to draw the brown shirt over his compact form, Obi-Wan winced slightly. While his body was mostly healed from battle, there were still the aches and pains that would forever haunt him. 

Affixing the simple utility belt around his waist again, he carefully clipped his lightsaber to it. Then from the ground, he found the leather pouch he had been carrying for months. Loosening the drawstrings, he pulled the material back and studied the emitter end of a lightsaber. He still could not understand why he had picked it up after Anakin had fallen into the pit. It just seemed important at the time. 

The memory of how Anakin held it up, showing it to him and reminding him how similar it was to the one he had guided the boy in building so many years ago. Anakin had tossed the weapon to the ground like rubbish and reached for the new lightsaber at his hip. 

Obi-Wan knew that for as long as he lived, the image of the crimson saber was burned into his memories. 

Strapping the pouch in place, he slid the dark green poncho over his head and adjusted it. The Jedi pulled the hood to the soil colored shirt up obscuring his weary features. The scratchy material would take some getting used too, but it would at least get him out of Nasaux. 

Keeping to the smaller side roads, Obi-Wan traveled as inconspicuously as possible. Gently masking his presence with the Force the Jedi silently made his way to the tiny transport station at the edge of the dusty little village.

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Tightening his grip on the small comm device held in his black gloved hand, Ruan Uri barked, "What? How did they find out so quick?"

"The same way you know, Boss?" a female voice on the other end replied. "I get info from the same sources as those Imperial's do. This Jedi is a hot property and getting hotter every minute. That Vader guy wants him big time. Preferably alive."

"The money's good either way, Dahla," the bounty hunter said flatly.

"You know me, Boss, always do what you ask but there's something wrong with this picture. Whatever has to do with this Jedi is bad mojo. He's not worth it."

"But Dahla," a hint of laughter floated in the mask filtered voice, "he's the best trophy of them all. Not even the great Jango Fett could kill him." Roughly cutting the communication, he stashed the device back into a compartment on his left arm guard. 

What Dahla did not understand was that not everything revolved around money. She had handled his accounting for so long, he imagined that was all she thought he cared about. The more retrievals or kills he made, the more credits that poured in. He went from job to job never taking a break. Someday he would, but not now, not until he made a name for himself because no amount of credits could secure him the fame that taking Kenobi's charmed life would bring.

All that remained of the Jedi were a small handful that had run at the first hint of trouble and the ever-elusive General Kenobi. Once he proved too dangerous to remain with the rebellion, the Jedi left spending several weeks barely escaping hunter after hunter until he just vanished. 

That was not entirely true. While others bet on the Jedi resorting to desperation, Ruan had not. He had studied what little information remained on the Jedi and on Kenobi in particular. While desperation may appear on Kenobi's surface, there was nothing desperate in how he moved. He was heading somewhere very specific, despite the apparent randomness of the transports he was moving from port to port on.

Sprinting over the sandy floor with a grace unimaginable in the heavy armor, Ruan zeroed in on a wreck of a freighter preparing to leave the backwater world he had been scouring for the last several days. It was the first one out since the fire at the cantina that the Jedi could have made, the bounty hunter figured. He hoped the Imperial fools that were approaching would think less of Kenobi's skill and expect him to arrive for a later departure.

The black and silver Mandalorian armour blended into the damaged body of the old freighter as he crept quietly alongside. He studied the few workers in the hanger that were finishing preparations for immediate take off but they were all too busy to notice him. Spying a small open cargo hatch at the rear of the ship, Ruan grew perfectly still and waited.

His patience was not tried as a hooded figure appeared quietly making his way to the open hatch. The man in the green poncho paused, apparently studying the cargo door and activated it. A low hum filled the air as the door began to retreat into the ship. Making a swift move, he rushed at the door before it closed too far.

"To late," Ruan growled bursting from his hiding place unleashing a barrage of blaster bolts. The hooded figure twisted but could do nothing except be riddled with shot and thrown away from the closing hatch crumpling to the sandy floor.

The ship's engines roared sending the armored figure into a narrow corridor as the air around the hangar swept up in a small windstorm the moment the ship lifted a few meters from the floor and glided out into the open. Once calm returned to the hangar, Ruan returned his attention to the rumpled form covered with a layer of golden grains.

Keeping his weapons at ready, Ruan approached. In the background the ship's thrusters burned and then the sudden silence rushed into the hangar. "Looks like you didn't make your flight, Kenobi," the triumph in his altered voice clearly audible.

The green poncho was twisted about the fallen man's face and was weighted down by a heavy dose of blown sand. Ruan's heavy boot connected kicking the dead man over. 

Anger flared within the usually calm, calculating mind of the bounty hunter.


	3. 

The thin, cold air of the tightly packed cargo hold made Obi-Wan's lungs ache as he crawled through the darkness. Sand and small bits of debris from the rough handling of the crates dug into the unprotected flesh of his hands. Crates and various netted objects grasped the green poncho he wore with phantom fingers as if trying to keep him from his goal. Roughly pulling the cloak free, the Jedi continued his journey toward a tiny line of white light and the promise of fresh air.

His journey through the dark cargo hold was held up as he ran into some large rectangular objects that kept him from the merciful light. Searching with his hands and through the Force, he found a narrow space above the crowded containers.

Stretching through the cramped space, the Jedi finally made it to the light and greedily took in the fresh air from the poorly sealed panel. "Thank the Force," he whispered softly to himself knowing there was no one else who would appreciate his gratitude.

The ache in Obi-Wan's muscles made him long for a warm place to lie down. He would be perfectly happy to spend one night in the comfort of a sleep couch, but above all he wanted the safety of one long night where he could rest in peace wherever that be.

Sleep much like his calm center had become elusive. What little he managed came in fitful starts filled with the living nightmare his world had become. Every time he passed toward sleep, he was startled awake by the remembrance of Anakin's haunted face. Or worse, he was ripped out of hope for a peaceful sleep by the phantom screams of the children as the Temple was blown apart around them. The screams that had torn into his mind, imprinting the terror, fear and the pain of death had left their mark and Obi-Wan knew he would never be able to truly rest again. Even though he had not been there when the Temple came under attack, he had felt it all and a part of him had died with them that day.

The exhaustion that had adhered itself not only to his mind, but his bones did not allow him the strength to mourn his friends and fellow Jedi. A part of him knew he had to conserve his strength for he was hunted but another part wanted so desperately to weep for all that had been lost. 

In the twisted, unnatural position pressed against cartons and bound objects he could not even find physical comfort. Another unhappy obstacle keeping him from mediation. A silent, mirthless laugh played through the weary Jedi's mind. No, his center had been lost so long ago he wondered if finding mediative peace was just a dream. He would just have to have faith that he would eventually still his mind and find the peace he so desperately needed.

For now all he could do was accept what was and go on.

A withering sigh escaped the man who had once been a Jedi, but without an Order he was nothing. The Force, his friend that had always been there remained but felt bereft of the many that inspired and thrived in it leaving only a never ending sense of emptiness inside him. 

Yet, this companion he had relied upon all his life may well be the very instrument that destroys him. The Sith used the Force to track the Jedi, the light signatures were like blinding beacons to the darkness. Every time he reached out with the ancient power, Obi-Wan wondered if it drew their attention.

Sucking in the recycled air from the tiny opening, Obi-Wan relaxed slightly. His heavy body pressed into the different shapes beneath him. Trying to turn a little, his right shoulder pressed into a locking device that protected one of the crates underneath. The metal jammed into a recently healed wound causing a sharp pain to lace through his nervous system. Trembling fingers protectively grasped his shoulder. The wound, like so many others inflicted by his former padawan were nearly healed but their reminders remained fresh. Warm tears sprang to his eyes as the pain slowly faded to a soft throb. He didn't remember it hurting as bad when Anakin's crimson saber had clipped his shoulder.

Of course there were many things in the ensuing months that he had forgotten or chose not to remember.

Then there were others that haunted him in their own way.

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Live you will.

Three tiny words spoken by Yoda that carried more of a crushing blow than any curse Anakin had spat. They were the last of a string of orders given by the diminutive Jedi master that every part of Obi-Wan screamed to disobey.

Why should he be above others in the Order? Were there not better Jedi? Greater Jedi who deserved to live more than he did? Should he not stand with his fellow Jedi and die with them?

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Doubt yourself, do you? Always you have. Give into this weakness you must not, stronger you are than you know.

There has to be another.

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Watch over the son of Skywalker you must. Without him, the darkness will win. He is our last hope. Know this, you do.

He wanted so desperately to tell Yoda no, but the little master would not hear it. 

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Live you will.

Certainly there had been others, better knights more knowledgeable masters, ones who had not failed. Or at least not failed as completely as he had. 

How could Yoda entrust the boy to his watch when he had already lost one apprentice?

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The hangar wall shook and exploded with blaster fire as Ruan Uri took his frustrations out on it. Growling fiercely he kicked a heavy black boot into the sandy floor sending golden dust skittering across the fallen man's green peasant garb. Breaking from his anger and seeking the calm he needed to perform his job, he studied the dead man. In his rush to take Kenobi out, he had accidentally killed a young mechanic that had arrived late to work. 

Sighing into the mask, Ruan roughly holstered his blasters and stalked through the nearby door. There was no one in the small adjacent building to impede him as they had all fled in fear when his tantrum had begun. 

Almost everyone.

The dock manager stood trembling behind the desk. Ruan imagined the greasy little man was trying to work up courage to charge him for the mess. 

The bounty hunter's heavy boots marched steadily across the duracrete floor spreading more of the fine sand over the neatly swept floor. Skipping all pleasantries, the armored figure demanded, "You will tell me where that freighter is headed."

The greasy human nodded nervously and reached across to the console entering a code. "I cannot do that," he looked up evenly and said with surprising ease. "My customers pay well for their privacy."

Almost quicker than the eye could perceive, a gloved hand shot out and grabbed the fat man by the throat half dragging him over the counter that separated them. "I am in no mood to play your pathetic games. You will tell me now."

"I can't," the manager sputtered as he tried to twist free of the powerful grip.

Shoving the man back into the wall and knocking him unconscious the dock manager slid to the floor. Ruan marched around the desk and studied the screen. He tried to access the departure records but they were secured. Upon further study, he discovered a partially hidden DNA reader.

Naturally.

Lifting up the ship control panel from the wrist guard he removed a tiny vibroshiv from a concealed compartment. The masked figure knelt behind the desk next to the unconscious manager. He drably thought that the greasy man was a disgusting creature but knew it was standard for managers of little ports like this. Grabbing up one of the manager's thick wrists, Ruan straightened the man's fleshy forefinger. A swift, yet powerful slice easily severed the finger and he caught before it fell to the floor. The manager whimpered but did not snap out of his concussion-induced daze.

"Thanks for your help," Ruan growled returning to the console. Inserting the severed finger into the small device built into the counter, he waited patiently as a series of red flashes lit up around the reader before slowing and finally turned to a steady green light.

Immediately the system granted him access and he quickly searched through the random logs that cluttered up what should have been an easy running schedule. It was another security measure designed to frustrate and infuriate anyone who had made it that far. Unlike the greasy man's belief, he was not tripped up by the filing system. He had run a similar set up in his youth in the Corellian port of Coragata near one of the major spice routes. He easily by-passed all the false docking lists and found the real one. 

The freighter was headed to A'tergo, a small transport hub on the Goean moon of Edo. The Jedi would find no friends there. 

Pausing long enough to delete the information, he then pulled out the small comm device and activated it. "Dahla?"

"What are you still doing in Nasaux, Boss?" a feminine voice asked.

"Giving myself a headache," the bounty hunter growled and stormed back through the small office to the empty hangar. Kneeling next to the worker he had accidently killed, he searched the man's meager possessions for some sort of identification. "What's the news?" he asked softly needing something to break up the silence.

"They got another one, Boss. You're loosing a lot of kills chasing after that Kenobi. Why don't you give him up for someone else? There's still quite a few Jedi out there and even the worthless ones are coming up in price. You could recoup your losses real fast."

"I want Kenobi," Ruan answered. "I want to be the man that kills him.

Finding the dead man's paperwork stuffed in a pocket of the blaster-riddled poncho, he studied it. "Hey, Dahla?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Got a special project for you." He searched through the roughened stack of folded papers. "I need a condolence gift sent to Nasaux, Porai sector, Adjot community. I want it given to the family of Zoret Nicial." He peeled back a worn picture of a woman and three very small children revealing the man's official work document. Like so many others in Nasaux, he was an indentured servant. The paperwork revealed he owed 3,000 credits or twenty-six years of working for the local boss. "Send the family 50,000 credits and transport to take them where they want to go. Then contact the local protection boss Bantu Metador's people. Pay off Nicial's debt."

"Yes, Boss."


	4. 

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Coruscant Time: —258 days

A'tergo Station was more unpleasant than even rumor had suggested. It hummed with the roar of customized light freighters and the rattle of broken down old ships that still managed, somehow to fly. The sound of unmarked cargo was being loaded onto a nearby ship.

A strange, vaguely nauseating stench permeated everything from the walls to the muddy soil beneath. For a station as busy as it was, the administrators never bothered to upgrade the accommodations, leaving dirt or more often mud for streets, paths and even inside many buildings. 

Not that it likely mattered to the station's patrons, for those who came here wished to avoid the local magistrates and certain Imperial attentions. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi also wished for the anonymity that A'tergo provided. Ducking into a narrow alley, he pulled at the soaked green poncho hoping to better protect him from the heavy rains that fell unmercifully from the brownish-yellow sky.

While A'tergo Station may have been a hemisphere away, it suffered from the Pyiatn Mining Consortium's excavation of the moon's southern region. The massive strip mining operation to find the rare caston flint was destroying the small moon. The ore was extremely valuable and difficult to refine but to an army it was worth whatever price. Its addition to any weapon magnified the blast potential by a hundredfold.

Just the thought of the mining operation gave the Jedi pause. He knew Pyiatn was under secret contract to the Empire to provide. In the interest of protecting the operation and in turn the priceless shipments, the Imperial peacekeeping forces had cordoned off the southern hemisphere and any ship that strayed into the watch area was promptly gunned down. Yet they virtually ignored A'tergo Station offering up an image of ignorance to the underhanded dealings going on there. 

Or at least that was what they portrayed. Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that the Emperor had eyes everywhere.

Dropping his weary gaze to the deep green poncho he was surprised to see it was fading. Holding a shaky hand out, Obi-Wan watched as heavy droplets with a yellowish haze pooled his palm. Dust, dirt and pollution had poisoned the sky and the cleansing rain that fell from it.

It took a short time for the sickening rain to penetrate the fading green material to soak the brown shirt underneath. It stole the last of the warmth and replaced it with the iciness of the approaching night. 

He just had to bear it for a little longer then he would be leaving this forsaken place in just a few hours. 

At the far end of the station, a Mon Calamari crew worked quickly to prepare the freighter _Reliant_ for take off. They were in league with the young rebellion delivering desperately needed supplies. The captain, a young female with silvery eyes had offered him passage to Yavin IV. He had tried to decline it for their safety but she was determined having known who he was at a glance. Her spirit reminded him so much of his lost friend. 

He never felt Bant pass into the Force but he knew she was gone. The healer had been there when the Temple was destroyed.

The Peacekeepers had offered no mercy and no escape not even for the children. The Grand Army of the Republic swept in without warning and when they were finished all that remained of the ancient structure was a great crater that was visible from space. 

Or at least that was the image the Imperial HoloVision showed. They happily proclaimed that the traitors to the Republic had been put down. The tyranny of the Jedi was at an end. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine declared himself Emperor of the new regime. He said martial law was only temporary until the last of the corruption was weeded out and destroyed.

That was only on the surface. Worlds that once had a great voice in the Senate were lumped together in small groups of "lesser" species and forced to be represented by one, often inept politician. Some of the non-human worlds were put under a governorship and lost representation all together. Commercial clans within the Senate disappeared as well as outspoken politicians without so much as a whimper. Instead of debate, a pall hung over the Senate chambers, the politicians had become afraid of making their opinions public for fear they too would vanish only to be replaced by those more agreeable to Palpatine. Anyone who sympathised or aided supposed traitors were charged with treason and put to death with minimal legal effort. 

The Jedi were traitors by virtue of what they were. 

And yet, the Mon Cal captain did not care. She told him they were dead if they were caught anyway so what did it matter?

____________________

As the day's yellow sky drew toward darkness, the cold poisonous rain had intensified. Its murky substance did not slow the wet footsteps that sloshed toward the waiting freighter _Reliant_ as the last of the cargo had been loaded. The old engines hummed as the ship prepared to quietly leave under the cover of night. 

Just as the loading ramp began to retreat into the craft, heavy mud covered boots stepped on and rode the closing ramp into the ship. A black gauntleted fist slammed into the door controls jamming them and leaving the side of the ship open and unable to take off. 

With blasters in hand, Ruan Uri calmly walked onto the ship's small bridge. "Where is he?"

The young captain rose up from her seat as she quickly masked her surprise. Harshly eyeing the intruder with silvery eyes, she growled, "He? Who? I have several men under my command. Which one do you want?"

Disliking her impudent tone, he fired a single shot that clipped the Mon Calamari captain's shoulder sending her to the floor with a pained gasp. "Do not play games with me. Give me, Kenobi and I will let you rebels go. Be nice and I might not even contact the Imperial gunships watching the moon."

"He's not on the ship," she defiantly spat the pain high in her voice.

The Mon Cal male at the navigator's station turned with a blaster but Ruan fired quicker, killing him quickly. Keeping one blaster trained on the captain, Ruan's right arm swung out and targeted the pilot. "Where is he?"

"I do not know." 

The third shot killed the pilot. 

"Anymore crew members you want dead?" Ruan asked.

"It's a small ship," she replied calmly. 

The fourth shot killed her. 

Turning his attention to the narrow opening that led to the back of the ship; Ruan stepped over the pilot's sprawled form. His guard remained up as he pushed through the unusually crowded sections. For all of the packing crates there was hardly room for the crew to exist which led him to believe they were not going too far.

Turning sharply he put one of the silver blasters between he and the final startled member of the crew. The Mon Cal cowered at the wall. He was young, not more than a boy but a problem no less. Stepping back, Ruan fired a fifth shot dropping the young man. 

A few paces down, he paused to study the crates of medical equipment to the burgeoning rebels. Some would have thought they were supplying a relief effort. 

It would provide the rebels with a great deal of use, if only they could get it. Replacing one blaster in its hip holster, he reached behind his back to the sheath attached to the armor and pulled out the blaster rifle that had remained secure there. He only used it when house cleaning as the expensive caston flint enhancement was only good for a few shots and he did not relish replacing it often. 

Tightening his grip, he pressed the muzzle directly to the corridor floor and fired. The ship rocked with the force of the explosion and a hole the size of a man's head appeared after the smoke cleared. Studying the contents of the secret hold he found nothing but medical supplies. Every few steps he repeated the action until he reached the far wall. 

Moving silently along the wall that divided the crew cabins from the ships over abundant storage he paused. Pressing the rifle to the wall, he fired. Taking a few steps he repeated the action. 

The instant the echo of the last shot faded, a muffled groan escaped through the newly blown a part wall. 

Smiling from beneath his mask, Ruan did not allow the distraction to last for more than a moment before roughly kicking in the door to a small cabin. In the low light, he found the Jedi on his knees clutching his left arm. Bits of shrapnel from the blasted wall had cut into the muscle of his upper arm and shoulder. 

Small tracks of blood had already appeared through the damp green poncho that clung heavily to his slumped frame. The depth of his exhaustion was clear in the heavy lines around his eyes as he drew his eyelids closed, waiting. The silver that had unmercifully begun frosting his ginger locks made him look much older than his thirty-eight years.

Leveling the blaster rifle at the Jedi, Ruan retreated a step. "Come on, old man, let's get out of this ship and into the open. I'm in no mood to drag your corpse through this maze."


	5. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan slowly rose to his feet still holding his injured arm. He did not try to suppress the pain, instead allowed the burn to seep into his mind and stepped slowly from the small cabin under Ruan's watch. 

Before he could move too far, the bounty hunter robbed him of his weapon clipping it to his belt next to the smaller lightsaber. Under drooping eyelids, pale blue eyes studied the trophy lightsabers. 

The blaster rifle muzzle was shoved forward jamming the Jedi in his wounded shoulder. Obi-Wan grunted softly as he was prodded through the ship. It wasn't very far before he stopped and stared down at the body of the young Calamarian in the middle of the walkway.

"He was just a boy," Obi-Wan said softly, "you didn't have to kill him."

"He was also a rebel sympathizer aiding in transport of contraband." The mechanized voice gave no hint of emotion. "He should be grateful. If the Imperials had gotten to him first he would have begged for a quick death but would not have received it."

A chill raced through the Jedi. 

The rifle struck him again pushing him toward the open hatch. At the ramp the Jedi was struck with the cool wind. The icy cold rain pelted Obi-Wan as he was marched away from the ship over the muddy ground. The wet soil clung to his feet threatening to weigh him down and swallow him was he to stop. 

The sucking, sloshing footsteps ceased and Obi-Wan stood defiantly in the brown evening. Loosening his hold of his wounded arm, he studied the thin trickle of blood that coursed between his pale fingers. He turned back to face black and silver armored figure allowing his gaze to fall to the larger cylinder at Ruan's belt. 

The bounty hunter tightened his grip on the rifle. "Move."

Obi-Wan took a few stumbling heavy steps through the muck and stopped again.

__

Live, you will.

"You surprise me, Kenobi, I thought you would put up more of a fight."

"I am tired," Obi-Wan answered dully over the din of the falling rain. His ginger locks hung damply over his weary eyes as he turned his face to the polluted sky. The poisonous rain continued to fall unabated. It's murky yellow droplets coursing over the Jedi's face. "My friends, my family and my home are all gone." The bitterness was heavy in his voice. "What's left to keep running for?"

"Your life." Ruan Uri had spoken those two little words in the plainest most honest manner.

"My life is worthless." Obi-wan felt the chill of the rain soaking through his clothing and it intensified the physical ache that had seized him months ago.

The voice from within the expressionless mask hissed, "To me it is worth two million credits and the glory of your death at my hands."

"Is that all?"

__

Nothing else matters. Needs you, the son of Skywalker does. Know this you do.

So mentally numb, the bounty hunter's words did not even stir a pang of dread within the Jedi. For Obi-Wan had spoken only the truth, all that he loved and cared about was gone. He felt it every day in the silence of the Force and the raging emptiness in his heart. It was through his decisions and choices and ultimately his failures that had brought him to that wretched moment. In the end his failures not only destroyed his apprentice but also brought down the ancient Order and gave Palpatine the means to enslave the galaxy.

The fogged raindrops continued their assault on the broken man. Streams of water clung to the ginger tips of his hair and weighted down his eyelashes as he stared at the dark visage of his murderer.

The black armored form reminded Obi-Wan of the menacing figure of Vader towering behind the Emperor that he had seen on the Imperial HoloVision broadcasts. He had known then that the bit of flesh that remained had once been Anakin Skywalker but now commanded the slaughter of the Jedi. He understood now, to some degree, just what those who had fallen to Vader had seen and felt in those last moments. 

Strength seeped from his legs and he fell to his knees, sinking into the mud. Hands to his side offering no threat to the bounty hunter.

And he waited.

In that moment under the deep brown sky, the only thing the Jedi possessed was the fear of not knowing if the Force would cradle him in death or would he be cast out into the nothingness for all eternity. In the end though, he preferred death and the unknown to the alternative of being taken alive and held prisoner by the Emperor and his dark servant.

Ruan Uri remained perfectly still, perfectly targeting the Jedi. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Reaching into the Force, Obi-Wan whispered a soft plea for forgiveness.

Releasing his hold of the trigger, Ruan allowed the blaster rifle to lower slightly. "Stop playing games and get on your feet," he growled. 

"No."

The unshielded anger rippled through the Force as Ruan stormed the few steps up to the Jedi and pressed the cool muzzle to Obi-Wan's chest just below the right collarbone. "There's no honor in killing a coward! On your feet, Jedi!"

__

Remember the child! Everything depends on–

"No, I suppose there isn't and in the end I will be dead either way." Obi-Wan threw himself to the side while calling his weapon from Ruan's belt. In an instant the gloom with lit up with the flash of orange blaster bolts and the stark blue of an activated lightsaber. As Obi-Wan flipped back to gain a better defensive position, Ruan threw the blaster rifle to the side and took both of the silver blasters in hand. 

Obi-Wan deflected the volley of bolts but his weariness and shoulder wounds left him a little slow. A bolt burst through his defenses catching his right thigh. Stumbling a little, the Jedi turned and rushed the source of the deadly barrage.

__

Obi-Wan! No! Yoda's call rippled through Obi-Wan's mind. Ignoring it, he raced through the rain toward his soon to be killer. 

Blue flashed, slicing through the wet air.

The blaster fire stopped as Ruan Uri's headless body sank to its knees and toppled backward sending a sickly glop of mud splashing over the soaked Jedi.

Obi-Wan staggered to the side a step. Reaching out through the Force he sought the ancient master that had called to him but found only silence. Weakness seized his legs and they buckled from the weight of his existence sending him crashing into the wet ground next to the bounty hunter's fallen body. A tortured gasp escaped the Jedi, then sobs and finally wails, as he no longer had the strength to fight the pain inside. 

_______________________

__

Coruscant Time: -259 days

Heavy footfalls tracked through the still muddy ground under a sickly yellow sky. Six Imperial peacekeepers that were rapidly being dubbed stormtroopers marched in a protective formation around a single officer. They were halted by a makeshift security fence that surrounded the scene of the crime from the night before.

"You will let me pass!" the short, squat officer barked, shoving his way to the front of the armored figures. His black beady gaze settled on the tall thin man blocking his access to the scene. "I am Hashaar, Captain of the Onyx Guard," he announced.

"I am well aware of who you are, but you have no jurisdiction here."

"I have jurisdiction everywhere!"

Unimpressed, the tall official folded his arms across his chest and replied, "I am Colonel Goris Egan, Boyran district supervisor to the Regional Governor Mnans Perot. You sir, have not provided the proper permits therefore you have no jurisdiction here."

In the center of the cordoned off area, an investigator from the Governor's office walked carefully over the muddy ground so not to ruin his freshly polished boots. He paused and looked across the way to the heavily damaged ship _Reliant_.

"Ruan Uri, am I correct?" the investigator asked, turning to eye bounty hunter standing quietly a few meters away. He never even tried to hide his disgust in his tone.

"Yes," the mechanized voice replied. The brushed silver armor and black under suit were nearly unidentifiable under the thick cake of dried yellowish mud. Yet, at his hip, his meticulously cleaned weapons glinted in the hazy morning light. 

The investigator turned to study the muddy ground a short distance away where a mud-splattered head lie quite a distance from its body. Making another note, he never looked up to speak to the bounty hunter. "Seems you did us quite a favor, Uri. Not only did you take out another one of those Jedi you handled one of our little pirate problems. If you weren't scum I'd hire you."

"I enjoy what I do," came the cold reply. "My reward."

"All in good time. First I have a few questions."

The masked figure remained silent, appearing to stare at the investigator.

"I am the Captain of the Onyx Guard!" Hashaar screamed in the background. His red face turned at the sight of the armored form of Ruan Uri. "You will detain that thing!"

The Colonel turned to look back at the bounty hunter. "I have no alert for holding him."

"Tell me what happened," the investigator softly demanded as if oblivious to the argument a short distance away.

Ruan masked face looked to the devastated [i]_Reliant[/i]_ and began, "I had been watching the port for the day, my sources said Kenobi was heading this way. I spied the Jedi being welcomed upon the ship by members of the crew. When approached they said there was no Jedi aboard and attempted to keep me from getting to Kenobi."

"It did not look as if they put up much resistance on the ship. Go on."

There was a pause before the filtered voice continued, "They attempted to interfere with my apprehension of Kenobi and were swiftly taken care of."

Suspicion laced the investigator's voice, "And you found the Jedi?"

"Captured and led him out of the ship. He was worth more alive."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

Unhindered, Ruan continued by motioning toward the body in the mud, "At which point, he interfered and aided in Kenobi's escape." 

"And who is this Jedi?" the Imperial asked still making notes.

"Not one that I know of."

The bounty hunter's reply caused the investigator to look up from his notes to study the armored figure before him. "It seems you have quite a body count. Almost two dozen Jedi, impressive." Briefly, his gaze fell to the shining blasters at Ruan's hip. The moment of awe in his voice turned back to the serious tones as he added, "Until we can prove he is a Jedi, there is no reward."

"Of course," Ruan said. His emotionless black and silver mask turned toward the muddy, headless corpse suddenly surrounded by the Hashaar's men.

In the midst of it all lay a silver cylinder half buried in the murk. The investigator had begun to speak again but the bounty hunter paid it little attention as he limped slightly toward the decapitated form in the mud. As he reached for the lightsaber hilt, the stormtroopers suddenly targeted him.

"You will arrest him for interfering with an investigation!" Hashaar bellowed fumbling toward Ruan in the mud. 

"Until you provide proof I will not," Colonel Egan shot back. His 

despise for the man in his tone and the way his blue eyes studied the contemptuous Captain.

Ignoring the arguing men, Ruan Uri snatched the saber up and roughly shook the mud from it. Studying it briefly before carefully clipping it to his utility belt next to the smaller one. His gloved fingers brushing against the leather pouch strapped to his right thigh.

"We will need that," Hashaar growled.

"It is a trophy," Ruan growled twisting slightly to show another, smaller saber at his belt.

Hashaar burned red at the sight of the small saber.

"I keep them as proof of my kills."

The investigator made another note, adding dully, "We have no use for it. We have the body."

This only made Hashaar more furious. He barked at the bounty hunter, "You are a clod compared to a Jedi. Soon your kind, just like them will have run their course. Take your toy, scum. It will not save you in the end. I promise that!"

"Am I excused?" Ruan asked.

Colonel Egan absently dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The black helmet tilted in a tight nod and he marched away from the scene. 


	6. 

The farther away the armored figure got from the investigation the more the façade faltered. The slight limp became more exaggerated. While the blaster wound to the thigh was not crippling it was quite painful. Slowing his gate slightly, Obi-Wan evened out his steps masking the limp again, knowing a limping bounty hunter was a sign of weakness that could easily be exploited.

Although each step grew more difficult, he easily found the black and silver runner nestled between two freighters on the opposite side of the station from the _Reliant_.

Breathing a sigh of relief into the choking, suffocating helmet that he desperately wanted to rip off, Obi-Wan stopped in front of the ship. He knew he had to be careful to appear familiar with the ship's workings and not fumble with the small remote embedded into the heavy left wrist guard in the armor. There was a soft hum as the landing platform slowly lowered before him. Studying the remote through the dark helmet lense, he decided that if needed, he could control the engines and maybe more. Although, the disguised Jedi didn't think he would remain long enough with the ship and armor to discover many of its secrets.

Once safely ensconced in the small ship, he glanced about the sparse common area while waiting for the hatch to seal closed. There was a small bench that folded out into a sleep cot and a chair fixed to the floor next to a fold down table. A few steps to the back revealed a crowded refresher and opposite that was another small room. Blasters in hand he kicked the door open to reveal two binders attached to the wall and–

Retreating a few steps, he realized the room was Force dampened. It was designed for the live incarceration of a Jedi. 

Stumbling back into the open area, Obi-Wan quickly unhinged the helmet and in a rough motion pulled it free revealing sweat dampened ginger locks. Taking in the cool recycled air in slow, deep breaths he sought control and focus. 

Pale blue eyes leapt from one corner to the next quickly making a silent inventory of anything that could aid him. Apparently Ruan Uri lived in much the manner of the Jedi, possessing very little. 

But that was where the comparison abruptly ended. 

Clipped to the wall next to the folded up desk was a collection of braided hair of every length and color. Tears made his vision swim but it could not cloud the reds and blues of achievement markers braided into the hair. Desperately looking away his gaze settled on a box nestled against the wall, inside lightsabers of ever size were just dumped into it as if little more than trash. He did not even have to come close to the box to feel the disturbed Force around it. The Jedi that had once held those weapons died fighting for their lives and the lives of others.

Overcome by the maddening exhaustion that had slowly been crippling him, Obi-Wan collapsed. The impact of the body armor to the duranium floor made a terrible clatter that nearly drowned out his own pained cry. Possessed he fought against the Jedi killer's armor as if it were a wild beast intent on mauling him as a cold sweat beaded against his flesh. 

As quickly as it began, it ended as he did not have the strength to continue and finally fell still. His flushed cheek sank to the cold floor. Knowing he has to pull himself together the Jedi struggled back to his feet and marched toward the cockpit. He had to get off this world.

__________________________

__

Coruscant Time: -260 days

The gentle hum of the _Apostasy's _well-tended engines provided a soothing sound to the silence of space. But even that were not enough for Obi-Wan who knelt in meditative calm on the cold floor of the ship's common area for it was the only peace he could find as sleep evaded him. Every breath came soft and shallow as his mind wandered the realms of time and space. Even after nearly two hours of struggle, he could not bring his pain-dulled thoughts back to center. 

His calm center had been gone so long, he feared he would not recognize it should it return. So instead, he sought the comfort of the litany found in the calming repetition of the Jedi code. 

Breaking from the mantra hat he had faithfully served until he failed it, Obi-Wan's heavy, bloodshot gaze fell to the box at his side. Biting back the grief he had struggled so desperately to overcome, the Jedi allowed himself to look upon the contents that he had carefully arranged. Every lightsaber had been taken out and reverently replaced according to size. The ones built for the smallest hands, the training sabers, lay atop of the collection. There were five of them. The last item placed in the box was the tangle of padawan braids that had been bound together. He would not even venture to count those, whatever the number it was too many. 

The box and all of its contents only added to the sickness he felt inside. The illness seemed determined to cling and fester around his aching heart never offering reprieve from the pain. 

It was as intense and fatal as any blaster bolt and yet he did not die. It was as if the Force were playing a cruel game with him never allowing escape to the peaceful slumber of its soft waves. Always kept forever beyond the pale. 

Left alive to witness what his failures have wrought. 

Obi-Wan blinked and turned his attention to attending his wounds. Fingers gently probed the scattered gashes and punctures that ran across his left arm and chest. Most were small and would heal in a day or two, quicker if he could reach a healing meditation. There were two larger wounds in his shoulder that would take more time. In a series of slow motions, he folded the clean cloth he had found and pressed it to some of the still oozing abrasions. He had already tended to the blaster wound on his leg. While it was not serious it had damaged muscle and would require more time to heal even with aid of the bacta salve. 

"Hey, Boss," a female voice crackled over the ship wide intercom. "Why didn't you tell me you killed another Jedi?"

"What?" he answered half in a daze, momentarily uncertain if the voice was from inside or outside his head.

"Man, you okay, Boss?" Dahla asked then fell silent waiting for a response. When none came she spoke up again, "Boss?"

Obi-Wan frowned, concerned that he would give himself away by speaking, or worse, by not. "Yes?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Deep concern filled the question.

"Of course, why?" Every word was spoken with care to blunt his core accent.

"I never heard your real voice before. You're always talking through that awful mask." There was a pause. "What happened?" she asked innocently.

"Had to remove the armor," Obi-Wan replied, trying to speak in the same economic sentences Ruan had. "It was a difficult fight and took a few hits along the way."

"No kidding! Imperial HoloVision is all abuzz. First they reported you had killed Kenobi but then it was revealed to be some other Jedi."

Obi-Wan's blood ran cold with that report.

"The Onyx Guard showed up, they only show up if it was an important Jedi. Who was it?"

"Just some knight. He aided Kenobi's escape."

"What bad luck!" Dahla growled. "You would have had him if that other Jedi didn't interfere. So who injured you? The no name Jedi or Kenobi?"

Frowning, the Jedi remained silent for a beat. "Kenobi."

"You sure you okay, Boss?"

"Yes."

Again there was a long silence. "Come on, Boss, this is Dahla you're talking to. I know when something isn't right."

At last he had a name. That would help the ruse, right? "Dahla?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Everything else taken care of?"

"I took care of that mess in Nasaux just like you asked. The family is free and on their way to Corellia. Seems the widow has family there."

"Good."

"It was an accident, you know that, Boss. Like you always say, sometimes bad things happen. Deal with it and go on."

"Good advice."

"Looking another job, Boss? Or do you still have that fascination in being the one to kill Kenobi?"

"Please tell me what other jobs are out there."

"Please? What did that Jedi do? Knock you in the head one too many times?"

"Something like that."

An uncomfortable silence filled the ship before Dahla finally spoke up, "How about Emeute Farrago? She's not too far off from your coordinates. A Jedi kid. Easy kill for a man like you."

Obi-Wan straightened at the padawan's name. Her master, Geya Moorbok had been killed days earlier attacking a group of peacekeepers, so the Imperial HoloVision claimed. He vaguely remembered the Master from days back in the Temple. She had been a tall woman with golden skin and deep maroon tattoos above her sculptured eyebrows. He even thought he remembered Emeute racing to keep up with her master's long strides. That had not been so many years ago. 

She would still be little more than a child. One who did not deserve the grisly fate that awaited her.

"I will take it."

Dahla was silent for a moment. "You sure you okay, Boss?"

"Positive."

"I always offer another hunt but you never take, especially since she's only worth about 5,000 credits."

"She is worth that."

"It's a pay cut to someone of your caliber, Boss."

Obi-wan sighed and gently massaged his temples. If she did not stop calling him that he would quickly regurgitate the small ration bar he had consumed earlier. "I need a little rest and this will be easy."

"It also keeps everyone on their toes. Especially if they think you are chasing after Kenobi."

"Let the peacekeepers tend to him for now. I have wasted too much time and resources on one Jedi. There are still plenty of Jedi on the loose."

"Not that many, not anymore."

He had known her answer before she spoke. "Then I will have to find something else to hunt."

"Sure thing, Boss. I'm transmitting the information now."

The strange affection in her voice when she called him–Ruan Uri–Boss bothered him. 

"The Jedi kid was last seen on Vego. She's without her light sword. Lost it when her master was killed. Must not have been a very good master if she didn't teach the girl to hold onto her weapon. No wonder the Jedi are being taken out so easy. Lousy teaching."

The remark left Obi-Wan cold.

"Hey, Boss, you still there?"

"Forgive me, Dahla." He had to struggle not to sound bitter.

Obi-Wan could almost hear her smile over the intercom and was surprised. 

"I think I like speaking to you without that helmet, Boss. You actually sound human."

"Thank you."

"Sure thing, Boss." And the communication ended.


	7. 

__

Coruscant Time: -261 days

Obi-Wan adjusted the tight helmet again, as it was growing more uncomfortable with every passing minute. It was just his imagination but he felt as if there was a Force dampener in it that was partially blinding all of his senses. How had Ruan Uri been such an efficient hunter in the heavy, unyielding armor? Worse, the black jumpsuit under the armor was hot even in the cool Vego afternoon.

Dahla, whoever she was, had provided him with the detailed coordinates of a small village far from every major population on the planet. With no port of trade, it made him all the more obvious in a crowd. Biting back his concern he moved silently through the streets keeping his senses sharp to any danger. 

What little he knew of Vego was the population was quite unsympathetic to the Empire and chose to withdraw their place in the Imperial senate but it did not save them from coming under the thumb of the new regional governor. After the plagues had wiped out a good portion of the population the world quieted down and had remained so for the last several months. Imperial HoloVision reported the plague had been spread through infected nerf meat but in truth it had come at the hands of blaster wielding Imperial Peacekeepers. They had wiped out family lines that were noted for producing Force sensitives. 

On Vego, it was a matter of pride and social status to offer their children to the Jedi Order. Great families were defined by the amount of Jedi a line produced. 

As he walked through the village, he quietly noted the burned foundations where homes and businesses had once been. And with every step he grew more aware of the growing number of eyes that secretly followed him. 

A voice called out from the shadows, "We have given you all we have, go away! There is no one left for you to feed upon!"

He would quietly listen, but he would not respond for he all ready knew that he wore the face of a Jedi killer. Besides, Obi-Wan sadly reasoned no one would be searching for a Jedi disguised as a bounty hunter. The more the terrified eyes settled on him, the more concerned he was about facing Padawan Farrago. He would scare her to death.

Knowing if he did not quickly find her, she would be dead anyway. He was not the only bounty hunter or Imperial with a track on her. The only thing he had going for him was that he arrived first.

The heavy boots impacted the cobblestone as he made his way through the tiny village. Carefully, he cast out searching for the padawan. It did not take long before he zeroed in on a bright, yet frightened Force signature. She was moving quickly toward the edge of the village.

Picking up his pace, the masked Jedi vaguely noted movement in the shadows. There was no overt threat but Obi-Wan remained tense. As the Clone Wars ended and the Chancellor began tightening his grip of the unified Republic, Obi-Wan had seen factions form. Watched as worlds began to strife under the martial law. Saw the willingness of those who wanted their freedom to do anything necessary. He could not afford to lay too much trust, even in sympathizers.

But if the girl was being protected, he might have trouble. 

So many questions welled up in the Jedi that he stopped in the center of a quiet street. First and foremost, what was he going to do with her once he found her? Certainly she couldn't stay on Vego; her presence now was bringing bounty hunters and Imperials to an already devastated world.

Aware that the silent figures from the shops had crept out and gathered around him at a distance, Obi-Wan turned carefully. Through the dark visor of the mask, he studied the perfectly still bronze skinned humans. 

His concern was immediately pushed back the moment the Force spiked in warning. Fear pulsed through the Force and sent the Jedi racing again. Obi-Wan bounded around a corner and instinctively reached to his side where his "trophy" lightsaber hung but caught himself. Consciously he grabbed the two silver blasters at his hips. "Hold it right there!" he barked the mechanized voice a severe distortion of his natural dulcet tone.

A humanoid bounty hunter twisted and fired in a single motion. "She's mine!" 

Obi-Wan ducked out of the way of a volley of blaster bolts. Taking shelter behind a nearby building, the Jedi cast out seeking a mental picture of what was happening on the side street. 

A terrified shriek shook the Jedi again. Tightening his grip on the blasters he physically peered around the corner and discovered the padawan was very much alive. Her shoulder length hair shifted in front of her face as she struggled like a maddened animal to break free of the grip that held her.

"No!" Emeute Farrago howled, falling to her knees causing the bounty hunter to drag her over the stone street.

"Get up!" The hunter barked, yanking at the girl's bound hands. He jerked causing his long reddish brown beard to flip back and catch in the various rings that decorated his left ear. 

"Leave me, please," the padawan begged but a sharp kick of a pointed boot caused her to scream.

She was just a child, Obi-Wan thought while studying the dinghy, shapeless clothing that helped to disguise her tender age of fifteen. But her frightened, tear streaked face gave her away. 

"Please, don't," The girl cried out, shaking her golden tinged, dark hair wildly. "The Jedi are dead."

Ignoring her, the hunter searched the empty streets. "I'm no fool!" the man with growled, pulling the girl from her knees and thrust her in front of him as a living shield. "I know you're out there, Uri!" The leather-clad figure roughly adjusted the girl's position to better protect himself.

Emeute sobbed.

Obi-Wan stepped from behind the building brandishing a single blaster. The small silver form glinted in the pale white afternoon light. "Back away from her," he said evenly with a small dose of Force compulsion.

"You back off Uri," the other man hissed bearing his sharpened teeth. Wrapping a leather glove across her chin, the hunter yanked Emeute's head back. She whimpered but her jaw was still held closed by the large hand. "Pretty little Jedi girl will bring me a good price alive." He slid his hand down over her throat and slowly tightened his grip over her soft neck. "The pay is almost as good if she's dead."

While the blaster was not a weapon Obi-Wan was used to handling, he had been trained to use it adequately. Exhaling slowly he aimed the weapon past the frightened girl and a focused on one beady eye of her captor. "The pay will do you little good if you are dead."

"We don't kill our own," the other said as he guided the girl around the armored figure. "Or have you forgotten that being fed by the Imperials all this time?"

Obi-Wan remained silent, masked eyes following the large human.

"Of course," the hunter continued, "if I were hunting Kenobi, I wouldn't have let him escape me once, let alone three times."

Emeute howled still struggling against the heavy arm that pressed her to her captor's chest.

The Jedi knew as long as the girl fought, he couldn't get a clean shot. Reaching through the Force, he tried to calm her.

The moment the recognition hit the struggling padawan her dark eyes calmed, turning wide in shock. She knew. She knew what he was. Horror glossed over her features as the fight drained out of her and she grew heavy in her captor's arms.

The large hunter raised his blaster and fired at Obi-Wan.

The girl shrieked as the very large, dead man drug her to the ground. She kept screaming but she possessed little strength to pull herself free of the dead man's hold.

Dropping his weapon to his side, Obi-Wan rushed toward the panicked girl but stopped as threat exploded through the Force. Before he could respond, dozens of locals stepped from the shadows. Turning to study the heavily armed men and women that circled him, he realized why the girl had hidden there. She must have been taken from this world when still an infant and was searching for the safety of home.

A woman broke through the armed circle and rushed out to the terrified child. On the surface she appeared not to be bothered by the large dead man in the street and easily stepped around his corpse. "Come, Emeute. We must get you too a ship."

Obi-Wan holstered his weapon. "Every bounty hunter in the surrounding systems as well as the Imperial death squads are descending on this planet. You will not get far before you are hunted down."

"You're kind does not deserve to live!" The woman snapped. As if her words were an order, the armed circle opened fire on the surrounded bounty hunter.


	8. 

Through ragged breaths, the Jedi sought to calm himself but meditative calm aboard the bounty hunter's ship [i]_Apostasy[/i]_ would not be found. Still kneeling in the center of the ship's small common area, he remained quiet seeking whatever rest he could to salve his weary spirit.

Sighing, he rubbed the freshly treated blaster wound on his thigh. It was healing but not as fast as he would like or should. His exhaustion was getting the best of him. 

Pale blue eyes alighted on the box of lightsabers and padawan braids and draped in a worn blanket he had found. No matter how deep in a corner he pushed it, the box always remained to haunt him. 

The box should be taken and buried someplace nice. He would not allow those items to be desecrated as their owners had once been. 

Needing to look away, Obi-Wan's gaze miserably settled on the black helmet of his new identity that sat before him and was reminded of Emeute's words. Her accusations had damned him but he could not blame her. He had known the moment he stared into the masked face of the bounty hunter. It was like the face of death that had led the charge to wipe out the Jedi. The face he had created. A feral howl escaped the Jedi and in fierce retaliation he lashed out and sent the helmet flying across the room. 

"Hey, Boss?"

Obi-Wan's breath caught at the interruption. Casting about the ship and his immediate surroundings, he was quickly assured there was no one physically with him. Staring up at the small comm speaker attached to a support the Jedi relaxed slightly. "Yes, Dahla?" He hoped she had not heard his previous outburst, in fact he wondered how often she listened in on the ship's happenings.

"You okay?"

"Of course," he shrugged off the question hoping it would end there.

There was a long silence before Dahla spoke up again. "You wanted me to tell you when the Imps showed up. They just came out of hyperspace. Must have been right on your tail. You might want to bug out, Boss. That girl isn't worth your life."

The Jedi winced at the matter-of-fact tone his unseen companion had. 

"I don't have the girl yet. Another hunter arrived and the girl's protectors took to hiding. 

"You know Hashaar has never liked you, not since that Twi'lek on Selis Prime. Besides, you know he's got a lot of interest in the Jedi kid."

"What kind of interest?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering if he should already know the answer.

There was an unsettling pause. "Come on, Boss, you know he likes pretty little girls and that Jedi is supposed to be real cute." There was a pause. "They will do everything to take her alive. If you get in the way, you give him an excuse to take you out."

"I don't think he needs much of an excuse." After a moment of thought, he spoke evenly, "I will get the girl first." Straightening slightly, he turned to face the armor collected on the bench. If Emeute Farrago were fated to death at such a young age, it would be with the least amount of suffering. Smoothly, he rose to his feet.

"You know best." There was a hint of worry in her voice. Suddenly changing the subject, Dahla piped up, "It just came down the line a little while ago. They got another one of those Jedi in Corellia. There's just a handful of bounties left Kenobi notwithstanding. Pretty soon you'll have to go back to tracking scum again."

"After hunting Jedi, everything else seems boring. I might have to consider retiring.

"Yeah, getting you a girl and raising a couple of pups? Sure, Boss, we all got to have dreams."

"One must sleep to dream." Stalking silently across the common area of the ship, Obi-Wan grasped one of the silver blasters. He twisted it about in the white lighting and made a slight adjustment to it. Holding the weapon out, he studied it and made another adjustment. "I'll take care of the girl and contact you later."

"Sure, Boss."

He listened carefully until he heard a soft electronic click of the link closing. Approaching the small communications unit, he studied it momentarily before reaching for the brushed silver chest plate. Before pulling it on, he paused again and activated the recording device. 

"Dahla–"

________________

Emeute wore the simple, pale blue outfit of an average Vegoian schoolgirl and her hair tamed with a simple blue ribbon. Over her shoulder was the requisite shoulder pack with a few lessons in it for authenticity. She walked silently between Assari and a tall man in the elegant, deep purple robes of a Vegoian priest.

Assari placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You understand, child, why we could not find your biological parents."

A sad nod was Emeute's only response.

"It is not safe for either you or them. We have already missed a shuttle to the arrival of more bounty hunters."

"I know. I just wanted a family. My master–"

"We will find you a family," the rich voice of their male companion, Ia Picairo, said. He smiled warmly at the frightened girl. "We will take you to my cousin on Alderaan. As far as anyone is concerned your parents were killed in a pirate attack and you will be living with her and her family." He gently tipped her chin up revealing tear swollen eyes. "You will be just like any other child. They will not hunt you anymore.

Shaking her head, Emeute stopped. "I am Jedi," she defiantly announced, her fingers reached up into her tied back hair searching for the buried padawan braid. 

"The Jedi are gone. You must now be nothing that draws the attention of the Empire," he replied. "You still have their teaching and someday, when it is safer you will pass that knowledge on to others who will want to learn the ways of the past. For now, you must be nothing special. You must be a child with the hopes and dreams of a child."

With those final words, the spirit fell in the girl. Tugging at the blue shirt, Emeute nodded offering up a little sniffle. Picairo had said nothing different than Master Geya had. She had made the girl promise to hide, promise to do what was necessary to survive. She had seen that same put into action in the form of Jedi Kenobi in the armor of a bounty hunter.

Another thought came to her. Master Geya did not train a coward.

In the middle of the cobblestone street, the fifteen-year-old stopped, automatically and she reached for her hip where her lightsaber had always been. Panic washed over her at the reminder she had lost it when her master had been killed. Quickly grabbing hold of herself, she ripped the pack off her shoulder and pulled it open. Her guardians had told her to get rid of the lightsaber Obi-Wan had given her but she could not, just as she could not bring herself to cut her padawan braid. From the bottom of the school pack, she found the familiar heavy weight of the hilt. 

Throwing the bag down, she activated the pale violet saber blade revealing a well trained, if not very young, Jedi padawan. "Get back!" she ordered separating herself from her protectors. Warning rippled all around her and she didn't know which direction she should expect the attack from, but whatever happened she would face her fate as she had been taught.


End file.
